More Than Anything
by Dmarx
Summary: His fist automatically tightens around the letter, hand physically unable to release its hold even as his fingernails dig into his palms. Post-ep of sorts for 6x17. AU.


_For my twin. You've been gone for a year now and I still miss you every single day. I love you so much._

* * *

**More Than Anything**

"She loved you, Rick."

His fist automatically tightens around the letter, hand physically unable to release its hold even as his fingernails dig into his palms. Her words play on repeat through his mind, the only things holding together the pieces of his shattered heart.

He knows she wouldn't have held it against him for not being there, but he's not sure how he's ever supposed to forgive himself for not being by her side. There's no way he could've gone in with her; that much he understands from the bits and pieces he's picked up over the last couple of days. She had to go in alone. But he should've been there. He should've realized sooner that all wasn't what it seemed. There had to have been a clue. If only he'd found it in time.

It's not his fault. Everyone keeps telling him that, and rationally he knows it to be true, but rationality is the furthest thing from his mind right now. How is he supposed to be rational when he's never going to see her again?

How is he supposed to go on with his life when she's not going to be by his side?

There was supposed to be a wedding. His heart clenches at the thought, ribcage closing in on his chest, suffocating him. They were engaged to be married. They had a date, and a font for their save the date cards. She had his ring around her neck and a beautiful dress.

One that she'll never get to wear.

He's infinitely grateful for the time he had with her, the ups and downs, the smiles and laughs, the way they loved each other. He'll cherish the memories for the rest of his life, and he'll never stop counting his blessings that she chose him. That she loved him. That they had the chance, though far too briefly, to be something so amazing.

But he misses her more than anything. And it hurts so damn much.

He unfolds the letter again, smoothing out the creases in the paper and seeking what little comfort he can from her words. He's so numb with pain right now that he's not sure anything will ever bring him peace. But her words do help.

She's always been one to let her actions do the talking. Her eyes spoke multitudes more than her lips ever did, and the way she moved over him, under him, around him when they were together left no doubt in his mind as to exactly how much she loved him. He'd known even before she'd spoken the words for the first time, and there hasn't been a day since that there's been any doubt in his mind.

But seeing it here on the paper in her familiar script – a written declaration of her love for him. It's everything.

He fully understands now what she'd meant all those years ago when she'd told him one and done. He was her one, and she'd given every single piece of herself to their relationship. To him. Always.

He bites back a fresh wave of tears, blinking heavily until his eyes focus on the page. His brain is sluggish, and it takes a while for the words to make it from his eyes into comprehension, but it's not like he hasn't already memorized them anyway. Her last words.

_Babe_. He pauses on the word, eyes glazing over. She's the only person who's ever called him that. He'd never imagined she'd be one for pet names, which made the sheer affection of the endearment that much sweeter. She didn't say it often, but every time she did, he felt his heart overflow with love.

The fact that he'll never again hear the word leave her mouth in that gentle, loving tone crushes him even more.

He knows she wouldn't want this for him; sitting here in a catatonic state, still wrapped in the same clothes he'd been wearing when it happened. But he can't bring himself to change, can't even bring himself to move. Everywhere he could think of to go reminds him of her, of them, of all the chances they're never going to have. The precinct, the Old Haunt, the loft, her apartment. It's all just too much right now.

One day he knows he'll look back on their time together with a smile and a heart full of love, but right now everything just hurts. Everything he's ever wanted, every dream he's ever had for them and their future is just...gone.

Forever.

A gentle hand on his shoulder coaxes his head up, his own tired eyes meeting those of her father. It was the only place he could think of to go. He promised her once that he'd look after her father if anything ever happened, and he meant it with all of his heart but he never imagined it was a promise he'd actually have to uphold. But Jim knows what he's going through right now, and he loves Kate as much as Rick does.

Loved, he corrects himself, but no. That sounds wrong. She may be gone from this world but she'll never be gone from his heart. He'll never stop loving her.

It's only then that his eyes fall to the mug in Jim's hand, shakily extended in his direction. Castle reaches out to accept the offering, hands weak around the warm porcelain. Tea, not coffee, he notes, and he wonders if Jim knows what coffee meant to them. Wonders if he actively chose to make tea instead, or if it was simply the easiest option.

He's not sure he can stomach anything right now anyway.

He's not sure he'll ever be able to drink coffee again.

"She loved you, Rick," the elder man repeats. "More than anything."

"I know," he manages, voice raspy, words catching in his throat.

Their time together may have been cut short but she loved him. She gave everything she had to him. And that's more than he ever could have asked for.

* * *

He wishes he could say it gets easier.

And it does, at times. He smiles and laughs more now when he thinks of her. But it still hurts. So many things remind him of her, of something she said or did, something they'd planned to do but never had the chance. Moments like this still strike him often, splintering apart the small shards of his heart that he's only now managing to piece back together.

He doesn't imagine that's ever going to change.

But he finds he doesn't mind it so much anymore. Her death is a part of him, something that he will always carry with him. He uses it now to honor her life. He lives for her, for all the things she never got to experience. He takes the time to soak up the little things, to embrace the everyday magic of life as she'd once mentioned she believed in so strongly. The more time he devotes to this, the more he begins to understand what she'd meant. It's the little things that are significant in the end; fleeting moments of their time together, seemingly insignificant things they'd said or done. They mean everything to him now, reminders of the magic they'd created.

And he finds that no matter what happens, no matter where life takes him, her words, her love, are always in his heart.

**END**


End file.
